


Part I, Void Awakening

by DirisTheHidden



Series: The Light Between Stars [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Character Death, European Dead Zone, Existential Crisis, Gen, Murder Mystery, Past Character Death, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Post-Awakening, Some depictions of violence, but she's immortal so it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirisTheHidden/pseuds/DirisTheHidden
Summary: A new Guardian awakes for the first time to find her death was more complicated than an attack by Fallen scavengers.
Series: The Light Between Stars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719304
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. Bloom

She took a breath before opening her eyes. The air was new into her lungs and brought with it the softness of moss and fresh rain. She found that she had words for these things, but could not have explained how.

Faint mechanical whirring and thoughtful beeps and chirps prompted her to open her eyes. A glittering metal object—a cluster of little pyramids arranged around a central sphere—hovered a few feet overhead. The metal plates clicked and shifted, spinning as the little thing considered her. At the center of the sphere a blue light like an eye glowed down at her.

The plates split in surprise and the object gasped. “It worked!” Their voice was slightly tinny, produced by a metal voice box, but not unpleasant—smooth, quiet, and tenor. 

“What are you?” the woman found herself asking.

“Ah—that’s rather complicated. I am your Ghost. It’s a long story,” the little machine confessed. “I can explain more while we walk. You and your former companions have not been dead long and I fear your murderers are not far off. We should get moving.”

The woman blinked, sitting up to take in the full picture of her surroundings. She sat in a damp forest on a gentle, mossy slope. The metallic reek of blood finally came to her, though, as she took in the bodies of some fifteen people strewn between the trees. She retched as her already empty stomach tried to empty itself into the dirt.

The Ghost whirred and clicked, plates shifting anxiously as they scanned the forest for movement. “I appreciate that this is all very sudden, but I am picking up Fallen chatter and you don’t have armor, weapons, or a grasp of your Light yet. We have to move _now_.”

The woman nodded, trying not to look at the bodies as she heaved herself to her feet. It was easier than she expected—her movements were quick and smooth, certainly far smoother than they should be based on the state of her clothing. Her coat and pants indicated multiple slash and stab wounds, with a few bullet holes for good measure, but the skin beneath was smooth and unbroken.

The word “Fallen” held meaning for her, too—four-eyed and sharp-toothed scavengers, armed with energy weapons and wicked blades. She wondered if this was their work. “What happened to me?” She mused aloud.

“I am afraid I do not know,” the Ghost said, wheeling toward her to stare her in the eye. “Ready to go? Good! This way.” They whizzed away through the trees and the woman could see no other option but to follow.

She had to run to keep up, and the sun flickered across her eyes as it flashed through the trees. It must be early afternoon. Another piece of information that she understood without knowing why.

The Ghosts’ voice brought her out of her own thoughts. “Welcome to the European Dead Zone. It is a region more-or-less overrun by Fallen. Do you know what those are?”

“Mm.”

“There are human enclaves out here, despite the Fallen presence. And I came out here in search of you.”

The woman blinked. “In search of _me_? Why?” 

“Well, not exactly for _you_. I didn’t know that I was looking for exactly you. Do you know what the Traveler is?”

The woman hesitated. Yes, she did, in a way—the same way she knew what Fallen, sunlight, and afternoon were, the Traveler sufficiently shaped the world that she could conjure up an image of a white sphere the size of a small moon hovering a mere mile over the Earth’s surface. Beyond that, she did not know much. “Yes,” she said, nevertheless.

“But ‘Ghost’ doesn’t mean anything to you? Hmm. How about ‘Guardian’?”

“No.”

“Fascinating! We should discuss this further at a later date.” The Ghost was positively bubbly despite the face that they were apparently fleeing from Fallen and they had just awakened the woman from death. They cleared their digital throat. “However, to explain further, when the Traveler…went quiet, the Ghosts were born. Each of us has a fraction of a connection to the Traveler’s Light and we have _one person_ who is _ours_. I have been searching for you for centuries.”

“How did you know I am yours?”

“I couldn’t possibly describe it. Until I scanned your body, you were just another dead human. But suddenly a connection snapped between us, and here you are.”

“But who am I?”

“Asking the big questions, are we?” But they slowed to get a look at her face. “No one remembers who they were before they died, I’m sorry.”

“Or how they died,” the woman mused, fiddling with a loose strip of her coat.

“Exactly. You make who you are yourself, now.” Thier plates shifted again, considering her. “It will get easier.”

“How do you know?” 

“I don’t!” They whirled off again, cheerfully. “I’m guessing based on what I’ve seen of other Guardians.”

“But what do I call myself? What do I call you?”

“Whatever you like. Now then, my plan is to stop in at the nearest human enclave, then catch a ship to the Tower to gear up and get our first assignment. And, uh…teach you how all this works.”

“How all what w—.”

The sudden thunder of a distant engine made them both jump. The Ghost’s plates flew apart, looking similar to a startled cat, and the woman got a glimpse of their bright interior: swirling blue light twinkling with stars.

“Fallen!” the Ghost chirped. “With me.”

They skidded partway down the slope to a rocky section of hillside. The woman flattened herself against it and the Ghost shrouded themself in her hair. They watched an enormous Ketch, spike-nosed and asymmetrical, blot out the sun as it glided overhead. It was flying low, close to the treeline. Smaller skiffs swarmed behind it and one broke off to descend toward the crest of the nearby hill. As it got closer the woman could make out a set of markings painted across the front.

“Another House of Dusk vessel,” the Ghost said.

“What’s that?”

“The Fallen used to operate in clan groups called houses. But between pressure from Guardians and the Cabal,” (the word brought to the woman’s mind blocky, red ships in the distance), “most Fallen have united under one banner, the House of Dusk. Come on, the Ketch has passed and we should see what that scout ship is here for.”

With only the briefest glance to make sure danger was not close, the Ghost zipped up the hill and once again the woman had to run to keep up. It should have taken effort, but it didn’t. “I thought you said we needed to find shelter—we don’t have supplies or weapons.”

“Yes, but imagine if we could return to the Tower with intel already!”

“Tower?” The woman asked blankly.

“It’s the—oh, just come on! I’ll explain later.”

The woman scrambled along behind them. A few minutes’ jog brought them to the edge of the bald hill’s crest, where they stopped just inside the tree line.

A skiff had landed on the grass and its crew stalked the hilltop, rifles slung over their shoulders and pistols close at hand. 

“Get down!” The Ghost chittered, but the woman already knelt in the sparse undergrowth, eyes tracing the anxious twitching of dreg trigger-fingers.

They were swathed in purple fabric marked with the same symbol as their ship. The crew had eight of the small, undernourished and crested dreg, two of the four-armed vandals with their enormous sniper rifles, and one captain, marked by his double-spiked helm and fur-edged cloak.

The captain was pacing, and turned to mutter something to a subordinate.

“They’re waiting for someone,” the Ghost hissed, and the woman nodded.

A twig snapped behind them. The hairs flew up on the back of her neck. The Ghost appeared in danger of panicking and the woman snatched them out of the air, clutching them to her chest and rolling into a nearby bush.

A troop of humans, eleven in all, passed through the underbrush only a few feet away.

When the woman tried to roll over to watch the meeting, a pair of boots blocked her view and the woman swiftly rolled back. She glanced down at the Ghost, who nodded and wove through branches to peer out the other side. 

They wiggled back in just as quickly. “They have a translation device. They’ve done this before, or at least they were planning for this conversation.” The woman frowned. “I can’t get a good look at their faces anyway—I’ll stay and translate.” And so, whispering in their tinny, mechanical voice, they relayed the conversation.

“You’re late,” the captain growled.

“ _You_ don’t get to complain!” The human leader hissed, voice choked and difficult to hear. “My _child_ was among those you—.”

“We made a bargain, human. You did not tell us not to kill anyone. We could not have recognized one as your spawn. The job is done. Where is our payment?”

The woman and the Ghost exchanged glances.

The Fallen captain chittered low in their throat—it might have been a laugh. “Where did you humans find so much glimmer?” That word brought an image to the woman’s mind of a handful of blue, faintly glowing cubes of raw, unprocessed matter. Money, but so much more than metal disks.

“You don’t need to know,” the human leader snapped. “It is the agreed-upon sum.”

“And we will take it. Good doing business with you.”

“There may be more where where that came from.”

A chorus of chatter rose from the Fallen until the captain’s voice silenced them. “What do you have for us?”

“I will not tell you yet—the time has to be right. How should I get in contact when we are ready?”

“You already found a way to use one of our transceivers.” 

“I had to steal away to rewire it over the course of a _month_. Surely there is a better way.”

There was a pause during which the Ghost risked another look into the clearing. “The captain is handing over something small—it might be a transmitter,” they said, but the woman pressed a finger to her lips as the nearby human shuffled their feet.

The Fallen captain chuckled again. “See you soon, human.”

There was movement all around them as the skiff’s engine spun up and the humans retreated once more into the trees.

The woman and the Ghost lay in their bush as the sound of first the engine, and then the rustling of the humans’ passage faded into silence.

The Ghost pushed through the branches to act as lookout while the woman extricated herself and dusted off the ripped pants. “I don’t like this,” she said.

“Me either,” the Ghost replied. “But at least now we know who was responsible for your—and the others’—deaths.”

“No, we don’t. We only know who held the blade.”

They looked at each other.

“What are you going to do about it?” the Ghost asked.

The woman hesitated. “The Fallen may be a threat but the blood of those people is also on the hands of other humans. People deserve to know.”

“So you’re planning to act as judge, jury, and executioner?”

The woman shook her head, looking out into the forest where the human group had disappeared. “I am not one of them, but their community has the right to judge them. _Then_ we can go to the…Tower.”

The Ghost’s plates shifted and the woman had the distinct impression of a smile. “I think we will get along very well. Eyes up, Guardian. Let’s find that settlement.”

“Don’t call me Guardian, I hardly qualify as anything useful yet.”

“Well, what should I call you?”

“I don’t know. What should I call _you_?”

The Ghost began drifting off and the woman followed. “I don’t know, think of something.”

“You should choose your own name. I don’t even know what to call myself.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I will deliberately choose something silly.” The small smile that cracked her face felt foreign, but not unpleasant.

“Alright!” the Ghost insisted, “I will think of something!”

The journey took two hours, unsure as the Ghost was of their path. Neither spoke, and they saw no one else, neither human nor Fallen. The woman was glad of the stillness.

Around nightfall, they came upon a much-worn track. A few minutes’ walk brought them to an ivy-covered cliff. The woman stopped short, but the Ghost drifted onward toward the wall. “Come on.” They nosed aside strands of ivy and disappeared.

A crack in the wall granted the woman access. It soon widened enough that three people could have walked abreast. It wove through the rock and soon there was no light to see by; she moved along by feel. The woman flinched as the Ghost swung abruptly back around a corner to find her, their eye beaming brilliant light.

“Oh! Sorry,” they dimmed the light. “I just wanted to mention that I…stowed away on a supply ship to get here. None of the inhabitants know I’m here and I’m not even confident that they’ve heard of Guardians, so…perhaps it’s best if I hide for the present.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

They pressed on with the Ghost once more sheltering in the woman’s hair. “We _need_ to get you a bath.”

“It’s not my fault I got killed,” she grunted.

A few more bends in the path brought light filtering back into the tunnel once more and the Ghost turned off their light. As they came around the bend, the woman and two other humans surprised each other. The guards—they each carried a rifle and stood before a gate marked with the word “Stonehaven”—clutched their chests.

“You were so quiet I thought you must be a Fallen scout,” one of them gasped. “State your name and purpose please.” But as they lifted the light to get a better look at her face, the guards’ own faces drained of color.

“I don’t believe it,” the second guard mumbled. “Our patrol said they all—.”

“Take her to Arwa _now_ ,” the first insisted.”

“Follow me, quickly.” The guard shoved through the gate and the woman followed. They gate opened onto a sizeable cavern that had been built up into a small town. Moonlight filtered through branches and a gap in the stone ceiling onto the tin roofs of houses. The guard led her down a pebbled street and across a small square. People milled about, still winding down from the day’s business, and as they spotted the guard and the woman in tow, normal chatter swiftly descended into startled whispers.

A crowd gathered behind them as the guard led the woman up a path that ran along a clear stream and up to a wide building—the town hall, perhaps. As they neared the door, raised voices rose from inside. 

Without a word to their visitor, the guard knocked. 

The argument ceased as someone inside snapped, “What is it?”

“Arwa,” the guard shot a glance back at the woman, “You had better come outside.”

“What the hell is it, I’m bus—.” The door jerked open and the woman behind it froze as she saw their visitor. Tears filled her eyes. “Irina?”


	2. Entropic Pull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a human settlement, the new Guardian is confronted with the remnants of her previous life, and makes important progress on her investigation thanks to an old friend.

The woman called Irina froze as Arwa threw her arms around her. The Ghost squeaked out a tiny “oh” in her ear.

“My darling daughter,” Arwa wept, “ how did you survive?”

The “oh no” in Irina’s ear was louder than before, and it made the mother look up.

“What was that?”

With some reluctance, the Ghost emerged from beneath the curtain of the woman’s hair. There were some surprised gasps and whispers sprang up within the crowd that had followed them.

Arwa looked taken aback. “What is _that_?” she asked, eyes flicking to the face of her daughter. “Did it speak?”

Cheerfully, the Ghost bowed. “Good evening! I am a sentient robotic drone containing a small piece of the Traveler’s Light, created during the Collapse. I am a Ghost— _her_ Ghost.” They nodded at Irina. “I revived her this afternoon after a group of humans were killed by Fallen. I realize that she _looks_ like your daughter, but we are only here now to investigate—Hey!”

The woman called Irina snatched her Ghost out of the air. “You’re not helping. And look, they’ve stopped listening.”

The crowd’s whispers, had risen to an uproar and Arwa turned to her neighbors. “You see? You _see_? I warned you what would come of not dealing with the Fallen!”

A lanky, dreadlock’d person strode out of the crowd, arms raised for silence. “Now wait, everyone. I know we are all mourning, so many pillars of our community are lost, but we should take time to come together and talk about how to move forward.”

“Easy for you to say, Efe,” Arwa spat, “ _your_ daughter wasn’t among them.”

Efe held out their hands. “Neither should yours have been, but here she stands. We are _all_ glad of Irina’s return.”

“Uh,” said the Ghost.

“We will all meet at the town hall at dusk tomorrow. Until then, _goodnight_ , everyone.” Efe glared around at the crowd, which scattered as the town settled back into the usual routine, leaving the woman and the Ghost alone with Irina’s mother.

Arwa scowled after Efe. “Always indecisive. Too passive. All talking about it will do is give people a chance to back down,” she growled, but her face transformed as she took in Irina’s face again. “Just look at you! What a mess. Let’s get you a bath and clean clothes and you can tell me everything.”

With one arm around her shoulders, Arwa steered the woman called Irina back down the path, across the main square, and onto a side street that led up the slope toward the far wall of the cavern. The streets folded back on themselves and Arwa’s house was at the end of the farthest. 

Half an hour later, the woman sat at the kitchen table sipping a cup of sweet spiced tea across from Arwa. Irina’s mother reached across the table to stroke her hand. The woman let her. The kindness on Arwa’s face softened the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes and the streak of silver in her hair lent her an air of distinction. The dark eyes were soft now, but they had been filled with fire earlier as she confronted Efe. Ghost, meanwhile, fluttered anxiously around Irina’s head.

“Now,” Arwa began, taking a sip of her own tea, “Tell me everything. What happened exactly?”

“I tried to tell you earlier,” the Ghost said, “She can’t remember anything, your daughter—.”

Arwa waved the Ghost away. “I was asking _my daughter_ a question.”

The woman herself shook her head. “I’m sorry, but they are correct.”

Arwa pressed a chilly hand to her cheek. “That’s alright, my dear. You’re home now. You’ll remember, in time. Perhaps some sleep would help. I’m going to turn in soon myself; tomorrow will be a long day.” She gave the woman called Irina a hug and a kiss and went into her bedroom, one of the two rear doors out of the rough but cheerful common room.

Without a word to each other, the woman and the Ghost went back into Irinia’s small bedroom. Irina, it seemed, had had a great love of drawing. The walls were covered in sketches on scraps of rough paper. There was only a bed and a desk, but the desk was covered in still more half-finished drawings and from beneath the bed spilled sheaves of unused paper and even some materials for making paper. The drawings ranged from a hand-drawn map of the region, to portraits of townsfolk, to possible inventions. Most of the portraits were of a single person with kinky, full hair and a lopsided smile. In some sketches she was reading,, in some rolling her eyes. They were all labelled “Nera.” A small stash tacked just over the head of the bed were also of one person—an older man, bearded and smiling. His portraits were not labeled. 

The woman brushed her fingers over the ephemera of Irina’s life. They were full and bright, almost blinding to look at. The name “Irina” rang hollow in her chest.

The Ghost, meanwhile, scoured and scanned the room—a grid of their blue light recorded the finest details of Irina’s map. Then they paused. “These walls are _terribly_ thin, so we should be careful what we say, but I also feel that I should mention that Arwa has left her room.”

“How do you know?”

“I just heard her door, and,” the latch clicked as the front door opened and then closed again, “she’s gone. For the best, probably.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She is still grieving, on some level, even if she believes her daughter has returned. Better that we give her space and vice versa. Besides, that means we have a better chance to talk. We have an investigation to complete.”

“Right.” The quicker, the better. “The translator and transmitter would be important pieces of evidence. And we should try to establish a motive.”

“And we need to do that before the community meeting tomorrow. Or, at least, we need to figure out what we will say. For now, I think we don’t want whoever is working with the Fallen to go to ground. We should simply emphasize that the wounds are indicative of Fallen weapons.”

“I agree.” The woman glanced at the little metal being. “What kind of archive do you keep?”

“Everything.”

“Including voices?”

The Ghost chirped and spun. “Yes, that is a very good thought. I don’t know if I have a clean enough recording of the meeting, however.” They contemplated the air for a moment. “No, between ambient noise and their use of the translator, I can’t get a clean enough clip for a comparison.”

“Then tomorrow’s meeting might be our best chance of getting a feel for everyone. Maybe someone in town has been acting secretive lately.”

The Ghost rearranged their plates as if fidgeting. “Not to seem extremely callous, but we have an excellent opportunity here. Perhaps your predecessor kept a journal?”

“Perhaps.” She fiddled with the edge of a drawing of Arwa laughing. “Let’s hold off on searching for it until tomorrow. I would like to rest.”

The Ghost zipped in a giddy circle. “We have an excellent opportunity, then! I can always restore you to perfect health, so you do not always need to sleep. You should meditate and practice reaching for your light.”

The woman obeyed, settling on the bed and closing her eyes. “What am I looking for?”

“Just clear your mind.”

“How am I supposed to use Light again?”

“It’s very useful in battle against humanity’s enemies.” 

“And am I supposed to be able to clear my mind in a firefight?”

“Just _hush_!”

It took time and a conscious dismissal of the feelings that plagued her—the uncomfortable foreignness of the room around her and the sense that she was as an imposter even as she was still stunned by the newness of the world. Eventually, though, she burrowed stubbornly into the thick darkness of her own mind.

Quietly, without words that would have distracted her, the Ghost deepened their connection. What had barely been perceptible swelled to a steady river-flow. It could not be seen, was not a pale imitation of sunlight at war with the soothing black behind her eyelids, but rather a warms like hearthfire.

The Light came to her freely, and the woman wondered what her predecessor had done to earn an afterlife like this. If it could be considered an afterlife. And what was she going to do with it?

“You almost had it.” The Ghost’s voice made her jump.

“I think I would really rather sleep.”

The Ghost looked at her curiously but chirped in the affirmative. “Good idea. It’s been a long day of new things.”

The woman turned down the sheets and climbed into Irina’s bed. “Do you sleep?”

“I can power down for the night, but given the circumstances I will keep watch.”

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Irina.”

The woman called Irina rolled over and tried to sleep.

* * *

The smell of venison woke her. She rolled over to find Ghost scanning Irina’s drawings. “Good morning!”

“Good morning.” She dressed in Irina’s clothes and went out into the common room.

“Good morning!” Arwa looked up from cooking. “I hope you slept well.”

“Yes.”

“Here, I made your favorite—rice and spiced venison.” She kissed the woman on the head as she passed her a bowl.

“Thank you.” It was good.

“A group of us are going out today to…to recover the bodies. Nera will be staying in today with you. Perhaps your oldest friend will jog your memory better than your old mam.” Arwa winked. “Nera will be here soon to show you around town and remind you where everything is. I have to go, but there is plenty of food here for her.” Arwa dusted off her hands and brushed her fingers across her daughter’s cheek. “Have a good day! Stay safe. I love you.”

Ghost’s plates tightened. The woman called Irina felt the same. She watched Irina’s mother sling her pack and rifle across her shoulders. She waved as she left.

“If that was uncomfortable for me, that must have been terrible for you,” the Ghost observed.

“The sooner we finish this investigation, the better.”

The Ghost’s plates clicked as their shell rotated thoughtfully. “Should we take the opportunity to search her room?”

“Until we have a reason to suspect _anyone_ , we will not so much as go near the door.” The heat in her voice surprised her. “It is enough of an invasion to go through Irina’s things.”

The Ghost made no answer, and she returned to her food.

A muffled conversation outside made them both look up, and then Nera burst through the door. Irina’s sketches had captured her perfectly. “Well, well!” A wry smile already twisted her lips. “Look what the cat dragged in!” But when she scooped the woman called Irina up into a hug, it was tight and genuine.

“You’re Nera!” the Ghost piped up.

Nera laughed. “What is this?” she asked the woman.

“I am a sentient robotic—.”

“Yes, I was there last night.” Nera squinted at them. “So you’re an AI?”

“…yes.”

She turned to the woman called Irina. “How did you make them? You didn’t tell me you were working on anything like this!”

“ _You—_ ,” the Ghost spit out a flurry of crackles and beeps. “You could more easily believe she _made_ me than that I come from the Traveler? Why has no one out here heard of Guardians? I know we are far from the Last City, but—.”

“That’s enough,” the woman said, gently.

Nera shook her head. “Do _you_ know what they’re talking about?”

She took a breath before answering. “I think the concept is that they’re protectors of humanity, and their Ghosts give them…powers.”

“Oh! Wait.” Nera tapped her chin. “Didn’t old Ramond used to tell us stories about people like that?”

The woman shrugged.

Nera’s eyes wandered over her appraisingly. “So you’re a hero now, is it?”

Another shrug, but the lack of answers did not seem to bother Nera, who served herself from the pan on the stove.

“How was death?” Nera joked, but something in the other woman’s face made the smile slide away. “Oh, Light. Did you really…”

“It was dark,” the woman said plainly, “and quiet.”

The Ghost’s plates twitched. “Guardian, that makes it sound like you want her to stop talking.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I’m sorry.”

Nera shook her head. “I’m used to it. Undead or not, I hadn’t noticed any difference.” She tried to give a reassuring smile, and turned to scrape out the last grains of rice in her bowl. The woman blinked—Irina’s friend had inhaled her food. “So,” Nera said, “Arwa told me you need me to jog your memory around town?”

“That would be very helpful,” the Ghost chirped.

Nera nodded and her eyes narrowed to focus on the face of her friend. In a flash, though, the lopsided smile was back. “Come on, then. We’ll clean up and be off!”

The town was bigger than the Guardian and the Ghost had realized. The dimensions of the cavern were deceptive in the first place and many nooks and crannies had been fitted out for habitation. Some 1000 people lived in its shelter. As with Arwa’s house, many rose in tiers up the walls and even those toward the center were stacked to three stories, but even these had roof terraces, to admire the light that streamed in through the skylight. 

Four main byways split off from the main square: the front gate was heavily bounded by natural and human-made defenses down one path; a market street ran close to one wall; the path they had taken before ran up the slope beside the stream to the town hall; and the last followed the stream as it emptied into a small pond beneath the skylight. Modest vegetable gardens grew nearby. Past this little communal park, the path wove once more through the rock where it granted access to a landing pad built into the cliff wall outside, for trade ships.

Nera was good company. She was not impatient with the woman’s limited responses and was perfectly capable of filling the silence herself or letting it sit, not uncomfortably, between them.

Around midday, she repaid breakfast with skewered meat in the market. “Do you eat?” Nera asked the Ghost, pausing before finalizing their order.

“No, I do not need to consume anything for energy, nor do I have a means of doing so. But I appreciate the thought.”

They set off with their skewers and settled on the moss lawn near the pond to eat. “So, remember anything yet?” Nera asked.

“No,” the woman said. “Ghost has tried to explain—I cannot and will not remember.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

Nera scoffed. “Then what, precisely, keeps you here? A trade ship left this morning and you two could have been on it.”

Guardian and Ghost exchanged a look. The Ghost’s plates shuffled and then they nodded. “Is there somewhere ideal for a private conversation?” they asked.

“Ooh! Intrigue!” Nera sat up immediately. “I have just the place, and perhaps it will return some memories. Come with me.”

Stalactites, stalagmites, and full columns pierced the cavern and Nera led them to one of the largest of the latter. It had formed close to the the cavern wall and was scalable on one side, but only just. Nera marveled as the Guardian navigated it with ease and the Ghost drifted up after her.

“See? Your body remembers even if you don’t.”

“I am sorry, Nera,” the Ghost said, “But Guardians are resurrected with better than average strength and dexterity.”

“Oh, so you’re cheating, then!”

The climb brought them, ultimately, to a small hollow formed by the column’s proximity to the cavern wall. A blanket lean-to made it cozy, and more of Irina’s sketches provided adornment. 

“Ta-da!” Nera flopped down onto an old cushion, panting. “Welcome back to our secret fort. Well, less secret than difficult to reach. No one can hear us up here.”

The woman called Irina accepted a seat on the cushion beside Nera and gazed out over the town. Nera watched her. 

“So what did you want to talk about?”

The Ghost looked ready to launch into a full explanation, but the woman cut them off. “Has anyone around town been acting unusual lately?”

“You mean besides you?” Nera laughed and then cut herself off with a cough. “Right, you wouldn’t remember. Sorry, I’m actually not joking—about four days ago you started talking to people. A _lot_ of people. Everyone in town. Asking question and then disappearing for hours at a time without saying anything.”

The woman frowned. “What kind of questions?”

Nera shrugged. “You kept asking about how to rewire transmitters and about people’s attendance on patrol. Most strange of all, you didn’t tell me about any of it—I only heard about it when my parents asked me what you were doing. And then, of course, you left to join the peace mission on a whim.”

“What was your relationship to Irina?” the woman asked. 

Nera flushed. “We have been friends our entire lives. There isn’t a memory I have that you aren’t in, or are at least close to.”

The woman called Irina let out a long breath through her nose, but could not bring herself to insist that she _was not_ Irina. “Can I trust you?” she asked instead.

Nera looked at her like she had sprouted a second head. “Obviously.”

“Even if your parents demand answers out of you?”

“They know where my loyalties lie, so they wouldn’t bother.” Nera’s jaw was set, her gaze plain and even.

The woman turned to Ghost. “Do you have that recording of the conversation we overheard?”

They played and translated the content of the conversation between the Fallen captain and the human leader. By the time it had ended, Nera was seething. Angry tears streamed down her face.

“How could they?” she muttered over and over again. “How _could_ they?”

“Did the human voice sound familiar to you at all?”

Nera covered her face but shook her head. After a moment and a deep breath, she added, “Between the translator and other noise, I couldn’t even understand them.”

“This is why we are still here,” the woman said. “To bring justice to these people.”

Nera gave her a hard look “Do you know—or remember—anything about your father?”

The woman shook her head.

“He was a good man. He taught us both to hunt and he loved to tell stories. Five years ago, he was killed by Fallen while out on a hunt.”

“Oh.” The woman did not know how to react—how was she _supposed_ to react?

Nera wiped her face dry on her shirt. “So, what do you need? How can I help?”

“Can you tell us what those people were doing when they were killed?” the Ghost asked.

Nera nodded. “They were a peace mission. There is a faction of Fallen who claim that they wish to work together.”

“ _What?_ ” The Ghost’s plates rippled and shifted. “This is the first I’ve ever heard of such a thing.”

“Well, with Fallen murdering the peace party, it doesn’t look good for those in town who favored an alliance.”

The Ghost considered Nera carefully. “So the town meeting later will discuss that future. Well, I can understand having misgivings—the Fallen in the region haven’t given you all much reason to trust them.”

Nera sighed. “That is certainly true, but if there were even one group of Fallen we did not have to watch over our shoulders for, it would help.”

The woman called Irina stared out over Stonehaven. “I bet that sabotaging the peace negotiations was the human murderers’ goal. But telling people that some of their neighbors were willing to kill them to prevent a partnership with the Fallen is a great way to instill panic and send the ringleader sprinting for cover. We cannot mention it until we have a suspect—and proof.”

“But we can’t tell people _nothing_ at the town meeting,” Nera protested.

“The Guardian is right,” the Ghost chimed in. “We can’t risk them running.” 

Scowling, Nera nudged the woman called Irina in the arm. “I guess we had better think of something, then. Come on, we should speak to my Zazi before the meeting—you remember Efe, the mayor, right? They’ll trust me even if we can’t tell them everything. They’ll know what to do.”


	3. Chaos Accelerant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardian, the Ghost, and Nera have an idea of how to convince the humans to accept the Fallen peace treaty, but the results push Arwa over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use "Zazi" here as a form of familiar address for a non-binary parent just like "Dad" or "Mom."

The main room of the town hall had partly filled by the time Nera re-emerged from the mayor’s study at the back of the room, waving and cheerful. She jogged across the hall. “It took some convincing—Zazi does not like not knowing what is going on, but they’re trusting us. Here.” She pushed something into the Guardian’s hands as she pulled her in for a hug. As she stepped back, Nera winked. “You should sit in the front row and wait for Zaz—for the mayor to call on you.”

The woman did not even glance at the object in her fist until she sat down. She caught a flash of dusk-colored cloth, rough and fraying, before setting her eyes forward. Ghost chimed a small beep of surprise in her ear, but neither needed to speak. It did not matter where the scrap had come from; perhaps the team that had gone out to retrieve the bodies found it earlier that day, or perhaps they had not. The latter case did not make it not _true_. And better this little lie than the alternative.

People packed themselves into the hall. It was a substantial room, with a large upstairs balcony, to accommodate the whole community at once. Arwa plopped down beside her, giving Ghost a start. Arwa planted a kiss on the cheek of the woman called Irina. 

She was spared responding by Efe’s emergence from the study. The crowd began to settle. “We’ll see how this goes,” Arwa whispered. “Perhaps finally people will listen when I tell them the Fallen should not be trusted.”

Silence fell—uneasy with anticipation. But Efe did not flinch as they took their place behind the central podium. “Let us all bow our heads to offer a moment of silent thoughts for our fallen brethren and their families.”

The Guardian dropped her head alongside the others and even Ghost drooped respectfully. The silence in the woman’s chest hung heavy and low. There were sniffs and deep sighs around the hall. When they had all lifted their heads again, Efe announced, “There will be a service for them at dawn by the pond the day after tomorrow. If you would like to volunteer to cook a meal or keep vigil with one of the families, please see me after.”

“I’m sure you’re really grieving with everyone,” Arwa snorted, loud enough for the people around them to shift uncomfortably in their seats. The Guardian stared at her, sensing this was a deliberate attempt to rile Efe, but unsure what to do about it.

Efe did not flinch but turned a stilted smile on Irina’s mother. “Thank you, Arwa, for helping me to address the next important issue—how do we, all of us, act on our grief?”

“Oh, like you—.”

“But before we make any plans, Irina, why don’t you and your…Ghost tell us what you know?”

The woman rose slowly, painfully conscious of how every eye in the room turned to her. She rose, clutching the scrap of fabric. She and Ghost had talked about this, and agreed the words would be better out of her lips. She licked them and did not stand behind the podium.

“I do not have any memories from the encounter itself,” the Guardian began. A thousand faces—nine hundred and eighty-five, she remembered—stared up at her expectantly. She cleared her throat. “However, a brief examination of the wounds was sufficient to determine that they were consistent with Fallen weaponry.”

Chatter erupted, and Arwa turned to her neighbors to complain loudly about those who had suggested peace in the first place. Efe glared daggers at her as they held up a hand for silence.

The Guardian waited for calm before producing the cloth. Ghost had taught her the right words. “We also found this as proof that it was Fallen. See the design here? This is the sigil of the House of Dusk.” Whispers of curiosity erupted, but the Guardian pressed on. “Fallen with allegiance to this house predominate in the EDZ and wear exclusively this color. Those of the defecting faction wear a variety of other colors.”

Efe nodded. “That is consistent with our first meeting.”

“What exactly are you saying?” Arwa’s eyes narrowed to slits.

The woman called Irina suppressed a shiver under that stare. “it means that Fallen are the murderers, but not the Fallen who sought peace. They have not betrayed the proposed alliance.”

The room descended into chaos as she resumed her seat. It was apparent that Arwa would be displeased with this conclusion, but both Guardian and Ghost were surprised at the vehemence of the anger that came from a number of others. She leaned toward the Ghost. “Can you..?”

“Way ahead of you,” they said, swiveling to scan and record the crowd.

When the clamor had not ceased after a full minute, Efe took the podium again. “ _ALRIGHT!_ ” they boomed and the room quieted. “Thank you. Given the circumstances, I propose reopening the debate around the proposed peace.” A ripple of approval passed through the crowd. “We will hear three arguments for each side. All in favor of opening debate?”

The “aye’s” were deafening. “All opposed?”

A few votes to the negative rang out.

“Very well, we will open debate. Let us hear the opening argument from those in favor of the peace mission.”

Debate was extended and dizzying. These grounds were clearly well-trodden: no discussion was necessary to determine who should speak for each side. There were many interruptions and digressions, some shouting matches among audience members. Efe only spoke to intervene and get the debate back on track. Arwa did not speak either, but glowered at supporters of the proposed peace and nodded along with the fiery speeches of those who criticized it. Nera stood on the side of the peace mission to respond to some arguments against it. Having allies among the Fallen, she insisted, would make their homes that much safer and give them better access to trade.

Ghost’s eye was wide and attentive even as the Guardian sheltered low in her chair. There were too many words, too fast and too loud. She would listen to Ghost’s summary later, and tried her best simply to focus on the performances.

The audience only began to calm during the supporters’ closing arguments, and by the time a man rose to close for the oppositional party, a tense silence had fallen, enough to allow the Guardian a moment to really listen. The speaker was young, not much older than Irina must have been. His hair was cut close and his face was solemn as he moved to the podium.

“My friends, my neighbors,” he began in a smooth, brassy voice, “Thank you, first of all, to our wonderful mayor, who is always thinking about how to support us as a community. And thank you eternally to those who have died trying to make the world brighter and safer for all of us. You all remember my parents, who perished five years ago simply trying to feed us all. My parents,” his voice broke, “Light rest their souls, would have been proud to see our efforts to create peace, and _so devastated_ to see how those efforts were betrayed.”

He paused for a long breath and in the quiet a few stifled sobs rose around the hall.

“We cannot give in to these Fallen. They see every advantage to steal and murder. If we grant them their peace treaty, we gift them access to our town, our homes, our sleeping children.” His voice rose, the brassy tones booming through the room. “If we wish to secure the peace for ourselves, we must show the Fallen— _regardless_ of faction—that we will not be cowed! We must rise against them, for the sake of ourselves, our children, and our children’s children. We must stand our ground We will show the Fallen that we are stronger!” He punched a fist into the air and cheers rose with it.

Guardian and Ghost shifted anxiously.

“Thank you, Gregory,” Efe cut in. “Debate is now closed. We will open the vote. Please, everyone, be patient as we make sure that everyone is counted.”

Nera had to nudge the woman called Irina to vote, and Arwa scowled as she voted in favor of continuing the peace talks.

The suspense was terrible, and in the end the vote was far too close for either side to feel content: 50% in favor, 49% opposed, and 1% who chose not to vote at all.

Tumult erupted once more and threatened to break out into some scuffles.

“ _SILENCE!_ ” Efe had taken the podium once more. The roar dulled, but did not still. “Thank you all for your patience. The council will meet tomorrow to discuss renewing overtures toward the peaceful Fallen. Given the circumstances, it is best that we all _go home_ and rest. Goodnight, friends.” There was a power in the final words, a verbal shove that sent them all filing out the door with only some grumbling.

The Guardian intended to stay behind to speak to Nera, but Arwa tightened an insistent hand around her wrist. The woman called Irina obeyed its pull without words. Ghost twittered a farewell to Nera and followed. They joined the streams of people winding their way home.

Arwa wrenched the front door of her home open and tried to shove her daughter inside, but the Guardian’s stout body followed Irina’s mother inside at its own pace. Arwa slammed the door behind them, and the Guardian blinked at her. “You are angry.”

“You are _betraying_ us, Irina—me and _your father_. How could you imagine cooperating with his murderers? I don’t _care_ of those specific Fallen did not murder the members of the peace mission, they have killed humans in the past. _I will not stand for it_.” She was weeping, her voice pitched close to a scream.

The Guardian let out a heavy breath. Ghost was right—this woman was mourning, had probably been mourning for the past five years. That did not change the situation, however. “You are probably right. But retribution does not mean justice for the dead if it gets more people killed. An alliance is a means to safeguard the future. Your husband—.”

“He is _your father_ ,” Arwa shrieked. “ _Do not speak as if you never knew him!_ ”

The Guardian sealed her lips. Should she offer to go stay somewhere else? Should she try to comfort Irina’s mother?

In a whisper with the strength of gale-force winds, Arwa said, “Go to your room and think about what I’ve said.”

She did, letting Ghost inside before closing the door softly behind her. The room was dark but she did not turn on the light before sitting on the bed with a sigh. The door to Arwa’s room slammed shut and the other woman’s bed creaked as she collapsed onto it.

“It feels wrong to continue to stay here,” the Guardian admitted under her breath.

Ghost flicked on a brighter light than usual to scan the woman’s face. “I can understand that. But,” their light flicked briefly to the wall that separated the bedrooms and dropped their volume level by several settings, “I believe it may be necessary to remain here for at least one more day.”

“Why?”

They hovered beside her ear. “I am beginning to suspect that Arwa herself may have something to do with the Fallen attack.” Before she could ask more questions, they projected words into the air—a transcript of the meeting. Without speaking, Ghost scrolled through to highlight certain passages. “We know Irina’s father was murdered by Fallen five years ago,” they whispered. “Arwa is, of course, furious at the idea of allying with any Fallen. During the meeting, she kept taking opportunities to mention how this attack means that the Fallen cannot be trusted.”

“But—.” The Guardian bit back the thought. To willfully kill other people to prevent the alliance, and make a pact with other Fallen in the process, was beyond reason.

“I know,” Ghost said. “And I know that opinions are not proof.”

The Guardian gripped the edge of the bed. “We’ll search Irina’s things tomorrow. And…hers.”

“You wanted to give them justice,” Ghost reminded her.

“I still do.”

“Well then.” Ghost’s plates spun. “Shall we try reaching for your Light again?”

The woman nodded, though her chest had gone cold. She pulled her legs up onto the bed and tried to settle, but her mind buzzed with activity. In a strange way, though, it seemed to help. Sinking into the darkness behind her eyes felt like breaching a thunderstorm.

Her body, fingertips to toes, flared and tingled with sparks. In her mind’s eye she watched it, until it had become familiar enough that she experimented with letting it drift into patterns. If she could only focus it—.

Arwa’s door creaked audibly, jolting the Guardian. The floor groaned beneath footsteps outside Irina’s room and the Guardian rolled silently over in bed, waving the Ghost away. They settled immediately on the desk, their light fading like an eye closing. The Guardian closed her own eyes and was still.

Arwa stood outside for a moment, perhaps listening. Then the door opened. Arwa crossed the room to sit on the bed. She brushed the hairs back from the Guardian’s face and left a kiss on her forehead, and then was gone again. Two doors closed and Ghost and Guardian opened their eyes to each other again.

From the next room came the sounds of rummaging punctuated by Arwa’s cursing. After a moment, however, there was a burst of static. The voice that followed, mechanical and in another language, made Ghost’s eye flare. The zipped quietly over to the bed to whisper in the Guardian’s ear. “ _That_ I can recognize as the voice of the human leader at that meeting we witnessed.” 

The woman’s breath caught. Ghost had been right. Worse yet, a voice, presumably of the Fallen captain, responded. “What are they saying?”

As they had before, Ghost translated for her.

“What do you want from us, human?” the captain demanded.

“I want you to attack the human settlement.”

Amusement and interest crackled in the captain’s voice. “You are a strange one, human.”

“Anything you loot is yours.”

“I’m listening.”

“Tomorrow night, after sundown. I’ll place a beacon so you can find it.”

“See you soon, human.”

The transmitter clicked. Guardian and Ghost lay shaking in silence for what felt like an eternity as Arwa wound down to sleep, cleaning and checking her guns from the sound of things.

At long last, the light clicked off. Within minutes, Arwa’s breathing had slowed.

The Guardian lay there gasping, unable to conceive of this person. Of the unbridled hatred so raw Arwa would burn her entire community to the ground. “What do we do first?” she asked Ghost.

Their plates clicked. “I think we should let everyone sleep. They will be better prepared tomorrow if they are rested. Now, we should see if Irina left anything behind. Maybe she can give us proof that we could take to Efe in the morning. At dawn, we can sound the alarm.”


	4. Cataclysm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After overhearing Arwa doing the unthinkable, Guardian and Ghost brace for their first battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: some graphic violence at the end of the chapter. MC death. But she's a Guardian so it's fine, right?

All night, Guardian and Ghost scoured every surface of the room, even checking the lining of drawers and the seams of the mattress for any signs of a hiding place. But there was nothing to be found, and they only ended up re-categorizing the drawings they had found the night before: portraits, landscapes, maps, and some plans for wild mechanical inventions. 

Ghost broke off to try to organize them all into some kind of chronological order. Perhaps that, they argued, could serve in place of a journal to illuminate Irina’s thoughts.

But after several hours, the Guardian stepped back from the cataloging. Ghost wanted to find a diary or something like it, a written record that most people would keep. But if Irina’s mind had been built at all like the Guardian’s was, the written word was not Irina’s close friend. The words were more slippery than the solid lines of her drawings. 

How would Irina have pictured this? The woman had charged off to join the peace mission without telling anyone. Would she have left anything behind just in case, or did she rush off too quickly?

As Ghost sorted the drawings—based on style, or carbon dating, or whatever else the Guardian could not guess-she surveyed their patterns. Nera said that Irina had been asking questions about transmitter re-wiring before she rushed off without telling anyone. If she had realized the Arwa was in any way connected with a possible attack on the peace mission, Irina might not have trusted her mother. And if she did not trust Arwa, perhaps she would leave something behind for Nera, instead. 

The Guardian dropped to her knees and began hunting through the drawings again. 

Ghost trilled as she shuffled through pages that they were scanning. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry. I don’t think Irina would have hidden her notes here.” There must be something here that only Nera would recognize, something only for the pair of them. So many of the portraits featured the young woman they had met that afternoon. Ghost watched with interest as the Guardian turned through pages of Nera’s gestures, laughter, and dancing. 

Nestled among them, however, was an unusual drawing. The Guardian could not make sense of it at first. Eventually, she realized, it was an intensely detailed drawing of a section of stone wall covered with sheaves of paper. They were blank, but the setting looked somehow familiar.

“Ghost.”

“Yes?”

“Wake Nera and ask her to meet me at the hideout.”

Their beam focused on her face. “I will do so, but just so you’re aware, we should not make a habit of being even a few dozen feet apart.” Their plates wiggled. “Be careful on the climb.” As they whizzed off, Guardian filled Irina’s pack with supplies. She hooked Irina’s sidearm and knife to her belt and strapped the woman’s rifle over her shoulder. On her way out, she stole a silent peek into Arwa’s room to confirm she had not made her escape. 

Dim pre-dawn light filtered into the cavern through the skylight. The climb up to the hideaway was even easier now that she was familiar with it and the Guardian reached it swiftly. There they were—though Irina’s sketch had not included what was featured on every page, the arrangement was the same. Gently, she lifted the pages away from the wall. A small hollow lay behind, filled with scraps and colored stones and other mementos—and a book.

The Guardian took it gingerly. Irina must have mad it herself out of her own paper with a cover of recycled plastic. Untying the twine that closed it, she began to leaf through the book. It was Irina’s personal sketchbook. Many pages bore now-familiar drawings of Nera. And many more pages. And then still more.

The Guardian’s brows knitted. This was the urgent message, possibly the last thing Irina would leave behind? On and on the portraits went, of Nera in every conceivable emotional state, making every possible expression, occasionally not even of her face—a few focused in great detail upon the curls of hair on the back of her neck and the shape of her wrists.

At long last, as the Guardian could hear the huffing of Nera’s own breath and as Ghost hovered up to her, she turned a page to find words. “Dear Nera,” she read, before snapping the book closed.

“You know I was _sleeping_?” Nera huffed. “What the hell is the big—oh.” She stared down at the notebook as the Guardian pushed it into her hands. “This is your sketchbook.”

“Irina left you a message.”

Nera bit her lip. “I hate it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not—nevermind.” She settled onto a cushion.

Ghost zipped to the Guardian’s side. “What did you find?”

The woman shook her head. “It was not for me to read,” she said, and took the seat beside Nera to wait.

Nera turned the pages slowly, trembling slightly at a book full of her own picture. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s a litter.”

Nera bit her lip, watching every angle of her own face go by, until at last she found the correct page. The Guardian turned away to give her privacy. Nera’s breaths came in shudders and at last broke into sobs. She shoved the book into the Guardian’s face. “Do you have any idea what this is about?” she demanded.

“No, I didn’t want to intrude—.”

Bur that only made Nera cry harder. She curled into a ball to comfort herself, leaving the Guardian to sit and flounder awkwardly beside her. Ghost hovered closer to Nera to offer what soothing words they could.

Eventually, Nera’s sobbing slowed enough to allow her to speak. “You’re really not Irina anymore, are you?”

“I am not. I’m sorry.”

Nera sniffed and wiped her face dry on her sleeves. “It’s not your fault. But now I need you to tell me why you called me up here. Irina wrote that her mother was setting up a group of Fallen to ambush the peace mission and she was going to go after them. Is that what this is about?”

“Worse,” the Guardian confessed. “Last night we overheard Arwa asking them to attack Stonehaven. She is going to send them the coordinates today.”

Nera gasped and clutched her chest. “ _What?_ ”

Ghost played the recording of the conversation, translating all the while. Nera could barely speak.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Ghost said, “but we need to act quickly. When we left the house, Arwa was not yet awake, but we do not know how she plans to send the coordinates. It is highly likely that she did not want to risk the Fallen coming tonight, before she at least could be ready for them. She may wait until afternoon, but will likely have to find a private means of transmitting the data. We _must_ try to prevent that, although I also realize that you should take this information to Efe, if not the whole town.”

Nera held up a hand and took a moment for several deep breaths. “Yes, you’re right, of course. But we must do this carefully. I believe you, and I think my Zazi will believe you, but I doubt you have sufficient proof to convince others.” She tipped her head in Ghost’s direction. “For one thing, none of us can understand that recording, and many people will not trust your word on what it means.”

Ghost’s plates spun with frustration. “But—.”

“I am sorry.” Nera spread her hands. “Folks don’t really understand what you are.”

“Go back to the house,” the Guardian said. “Keep watch over Arwa. Come find me when she awakes. Nera and I will go to the mayor.”

With an irritated whirring, Ghost snapped, “I don’t like this!”

“I am sorry!” the Guardian called after them as Ghost dove from their perch.

“That is a good start,” Nera nodded. “We should take this information to Zazi, they’ll know the best course of action.”

By the time they had reached the ground once more, Nera looked as she ever did, lopsided smile firmly in place as they jogged toward her home. People were beginning to stir and she greeted those who were out-and-about with warmth and only a hint of fear in her eyes.

Nera’s parents were eating breakfast when the woman ushered the Guardian into their kitchen. Efe and Nera’s mother blinked up at them from their breakfasts. “Your’re both up early,” Efe remarked.

Nera’s mother noticed first. “What’s wrong?” she asked with a frown.

“I am sorry, Ma, but we need to speak to Zazi—immediately.”

Her parents exchanged looks.

“This isn’t something that can wait until I’m in my office?” Efe asked. Their eyes flicked to the woman called Irina.

“No,” the young women said in unison.

Efe nodded. “Very well. Nera, let’s talk in your room.” The door had barely closed them before Efe wheeled on them—on the Guardian. “Listen—I appreciate the testimony you gave last night, Irina, but this isn’t a good time for you girls to be playing your games.”

“Zazi, she’s not Irina,” Nera said quietly.

“What?”

Nera launched into a complete explanation, from the beginning. The Guardian supplied details where necessary, and Nera even pulled out Irina’s sketchbook to provide a few small, select passages to buttress what little evidence they had.

By the end of it, Efe’s knees had given way and they slumped onto the bed to put their head in their hands. “This can’t be real.”

“I assure you it can,” Guardian said. Nera shot her a look and the Guardian snapped her mouth shut.

“I’m sure that you understand I cannot prosecute Arwa with so little hard material on which to base a case,” Efe said with a heavy sigh, “but we can try to make preparations for a possible attack. You said you,” they waived a hand, “you ‘Ghost’ is watching her now?”

“Yes. As soon as I can, I will rejoin them. I am hoping I might keep her busy today with inquiries about Irina’s life and memories.”

“That’s rather…calculating.” 

The Guardian shrugged. “Hundreds of lives are at stake.”

Nera trembled. “If Arwa succeeds, how many…”

“Ghost and I hope it will only be the eleven we saw—they would likely want to keep what they find to themselves. But there is a risk of more. Many more. Especially if those who receive the coordinates transmit them to anyone else.”

Efe rubbed their temples. “Alright. Please do what you can to prevent Arwa from acting. I’ll come up with a way to ready what fighters we have.”

“Thank you, mayor.” The Guardian dipped her head and turned to leave, but Nera leapt after her.

“Take this.” She closed Guardian’s hand around a small communicator. “Keep me updated.”

“I will.”

But outside, the Guardian met Ghost coming up the path.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. 

“Bad news—she’s gone. I spent a while simply watching her door before I realized I couldn’t hear anything within. When I went to check, she was already gone. Arwa must have left not long after we did.

The Guardian let out a long sigh and clicked the comms channel open. “Nera, I have bad news, but I also have an idea. May I speak to Efe?

* * * 

While Efe and Nera organized Stonehaven’s citizens for that evening’s “drill,” Guardian and Ghost hunted the nearby lands for signs of Arwa, but to no avail. Too many scouts and hunters had passed in and out of the settlement for even Ghost to sort through the many tracks.

Instead of pursuing her, they laid traps - some the same ones the town used for hunting, others buttressed with a little added firepower. A series of metal nets linked together and powered with an electric charge served to provide at least some covering for the great skylight into the cavern. 

Well before dark, the citizens all waited in their posts, munching supper and relaxing. Guardian and Ghost climbed up to join Nera in her sniper perch—the hideout.

“You have all done very well,” Ghost remarked.

“Thank you!” Nera dusted her hands off and rose to survey the town. “Folks without any combat experience are sheltering with the kids in the town hall.” She pointed and the Guardian nodded at the sight of new temporary barriers to the hall and the small group of guards stationed there. “We have a group watching the skylight, just in case,” Nera waved to a group posted on the roofs of the highest row of houses. They waved back. 

“We added an electrified net to serve as some means of limiting entry,” Ghost added.

Nera nodded. “Good, thank you. Of course, we have a solid group by the gate and at the rear cliff entrance. The platform out back is a bit too small for a skiff, but you never know. And then there are snipers stationed all over.” Nera pointed to a few other perches, “and more collections of guards on the ground.”

“All-told, how many fighters do we have?” The Guardian squinted around the cavern, imprinting every person into a map in her mind. 

“Twenty-nine, plus you. We had enough guns for forty, but we mostly, keep ammo for hunting, not defense, and we don’t have a full forty people who can use a rifle, anyway. So we distributed more ammo to what fighters we have. We’ve held some of it for you down below.”

“Thank you,” Ghost said, “but I can actually simulate more ammunition myself.”

Nera’s eyes widened. “I don’t suppose you can do that for everyone.”

The Ghost shook themselves sadly. “It does not work like that, I’m afraid.”

“Of course not!” Nera exclaimed, half laugh, half sigh. She looked the Guardian over. “Where are you going to set up?”

“I’ll be wherever I’m needed, but I want to be at the gate when Arwa returns. I will head there in a moment.”

“You all have done a tremendous job organizing everyone,” Ghost said, “and far be it from me to say what is best for _your_ community. But at some point, won’t it be important to tell everyone that this is real? Aren’t you risking their trust?”

Nera nodded. “Once everyone has eaten, my Zazi will go around and talk to everyone. They wanted to give people time to breathe.”

Ghost sighed mechanically. “Well, if there is only one skiff of Fallen, we should be more than prepared.” They ruffled their plates. “I hope that is all we have to worry about.”

Some commotion from the group at the entrance drew their eyes.

“That must be Arwa.” The Guardian straightened. “Be careful.”

“You, too.”

The Guardian dropped swiftly to the cavern floor. Too swiftly. But to her own surprise, something buoyed her gently as she slipped down even the smallest footholds on the side of the rock column. Ghost said nothing, but their eye flashed with measured excitement.

As she strode through the town, people waved, greeting her as Irina. She was glad that no one looked up when she approached the front gate.

Arwa was making a fuss among those who stood watch. “What the hell are you all doing?” she asked, wrenching away from someone who tried to guide her inside.

“ _We’re_ running a drill this evening. Where the hell have _you_ been all day?” one of the guards snapped.

Arwa looked taken aback. “I’ve been out scouting.”

The Guardian found a place to intervene. “Efe recalled all scouts and hunters first thing this morning.” She stared Irina’s mother down. “Did you not get the message?”

Arwa swallowed and then managed a smile. “Hello there, my dear. No, I didn’t.”

“Ah, Arwa!” Efe’s voice made the woman jump. “Good of you to join us. You’ll be stationed at the cliff gate.”

“It’s been a long day, “Arwa growled. “May I at least eat supper first?”

“There is food available there. Join them, please.”

Arwa scowled and moved to obey. “Come, Irina.” It took her a few steps to realize the woman called Irina had not followed. “Come on!”

“I am stationed elsewhere.”

Arwa whirled on Efe, but they simply shook their head, and Arwa stormed off. With a heavy breath, Efe turned to the group, who were whispering to themselves about Arwa’s strange behavior.

“Friends,” Efe waited until they had everyone’s attention. “I have to apologize to you. I have deceived you today, but I hope you will understand that I was trying to prevent panic. The drill is a pretense—we have received intel that at least one skiff of Fallen have found us and are planning a raid tonight.” They gave space to the initial outburst of surprise and fear before holding up a hand for silence. “The good news is that they are expecting a town full of sleeping people. They will not expect us to be ready for them.”

That seemed to calm people, and as they listened to Efe with determined faces, Guardian and Ghost left them to walk the town.

The Guardian buzzed with a nervous energy. 

“I realize I should have asked this question long before now,” Ghost said, “but do you even know how to fire that gun?”

The Guardian swung the rifle off her shoulder. She released the magazine, checked her ammo, replaced it, and then hefted the gun to her shoulder to aim at a spot up the cavern wall. Ghost’s plates whirred with satisfaction.

“Good. At the ver leat, it’s a start. But,” they sidled up to her, “what about that Light-empowered leap earlier?”

“What?”

“You felt it, didn’t you? Something caught you on your way down from the hideout. You reached for it without even realizing.”

The Guardian blinked at them.

“Look, that there is a very manageable jump.” They nosed toward a nearby rooftop nearly twenty feet up. 

Guardian stared at Ghost.

“You can do it! Just remember that feeling.”

“Is this really the time?”

“Yes.” Their plates clicked and their eye narrowed. “It is.”

With a huff, Guardian faced the wall. How had it felt earlier? There had been an ease to it. She needed to get to the ground. No, she _needed_ to get down but _wanted_ to be fast about it. Was the wanting the key?

She frowned at the rooftop. The Guardian hardly wanted to be up there, but perhaps that feeling of floating again was enough. She drew back several steps, took a deep breath, and ran at the building. More strongly than anything, she wanted not to slam face-first into the house. And mercifully, when she jumped, she didnt.

Instead, with a feeling like gravity picking her up and tossing her skyward, the Guardian launched into the air. Her arms swung as she arced and landed—wobbly, inelegantly, but safely—on the rooftop.

Ghost trilled a celebratio nas they followed her up. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I suppose not.” She sad on the cold aluminum roof. The chill was almost comforting, a grounding sensation against her palms. “Ghost, what am I?”

“What do you mean? You’re a Guardian.”

She frowned. “Am I dead?”

Ghost’s plates loosened as they laughed. “No.”

“Then am I undead?”

They chuckled but weighed this question. “Some might say that you are.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Heat rose at her collar. “The answer is yes or no.”

“Because I cannot answer it,” Ghost said. “You decide what you are, Guardian.”

“I am,” she flexed her hands. _Her_ hands? “I am an invader in this body. If Irina had not died I would not even be here.”

Ghost cocked to one side, plates spinning. “Yes, that is true. But she did die, and she died trying to protect the people she cared about. Isn’t that what you want to do, Guardian? Protect these people?”

Slowly, she nodded.

“Is that, perhaps, enough for now?”

Again, she nodded. She would see Irina’s purpose through, at least.

They settled into silence. Efe must have finished their rounds because the cavern fell eerily still and tense. As the sky darkened, no one made any moves to light the lamps. Below, those on guard retreated into the darkness. Perhaps they might be able to ambush the first few attackers and split the group.

The Guardian lay back and watched the stars come out through the skylight. From here, the nets were invisible. The wind rose, shaking the trees outside and bringing the smell of earth to her.

Ghost sighed. “The waiting is terrible.”

“ _Sh_!” The woman sat up, listening. Just under the sound of the wind in the trees was a low hum. The wind dropped enough for her to detect it clearly—an engine idling low over the trees. It moved on past the skylight, invisible above the forest canopy. Another followed. Then another, and another. The fifth did not move on, but dropped into line of sight over the settlement.

The Guardian whispered into her comms device. “Squad leaders—they’re here. Five skiffs. Expect fifty combatants. Sniper teams, eyes up—one team appears to be dropping above.”

The silence in the cavern sharpened. The tension in the air congealed with even the faintest sounds. The Guardian’s muscles coiled with every drip that echoed up to her.

At last a low chittering from the cliffside tunnel made her jump. Ghost wiggled immediately into the safety off her pack and the Guardian leveled her gun at the entrance.

A handful of dreg scurried into the cavern and fanned out. The vandals that followed did not keep to the floor but took to the walls, skittering toward some of the taller houses.

The townspeople huddled in their hiding places, waiting. If she had any greater power to turn to, the Guardian would have prayed. Sounds from the main gate signaled the arrival of more Fallen, and soft zaps from the skylight suggested someone had tried the netting. Through the cliffside tunnel, the captain stalked into Stonehaven.

Then an explosion from the hillside outside boomed into the chamber. One of the Guardian’s traps had found a victim. The comms crackled, and Efe whispered. “Engage.”

Gunfire lit the cavern as the humans charged. With startled yelps, many of the Fallen who had already entered the cavern were mowed down. Only the captain, aided by a shield that flickered with each bullet, found cover quickly enough.

But still more Fallen poured in behind them. Overhead, the net fizzled and several blades set to work creating a hole. The Guardian rolled over to get a clear shot. Twenty or so shanks, little attack drones, flooded through the gap. The team stationed on the far rooftop adjusted their firing positions and set to work. Each downed shank exploded, damaging its neighbors and showering the Guardian with sparks and shrapnel. But these explosions also provided excellent cover for the Fallen.

Her sharp eyes picked up the rippling of camouflage shielding as a host of marauders crawled in behind them and down the walls. The Guardian turned her assault rifle on them, bullets pinging off the armor until the illusions shattered or the Fallen lost their grip on the wall and plunged to the cavern floor.

The Guardian swept her gaze across the cavern. Now that they had lost the element of surprise, lamps had gone on around the town. The townspeople held the cliffside entrance where they had started. At the main gate, they had fallen back from the main gate to the next line of cover, but all defenders were still standing. None of the Fallen had yet made it to the town hall. A few marauders threatened sniper postions and the Guardian picked them off.

They were holding. They could do this, at least until help arrived.

But the Fallen captain had recovered from the initial volley. Bullets plinked off their arc shield and the air rippled around them as they faded from sight—and then phased back into shape behind the defensive line. They turned a shock rifle on their backs. A flurry of electric-charged shrapnel struck four humans, dropping them immediately as the charge incapacitated them.

The Guardian turned her rifle on the captain, unloading desperately into their shield to try to get their attention.

“Without a charged weapon of your own, that’s going to take forever,” Ghost shouted over the roar of gunfire. “If you reach for your Light again, you can do this. Arc Light will shatter it.”

But that took focus. In the pause that it required, the captain advanced on the downed townspeople, even as their fellows tried to cover them and drag them to safety.

The Guardian squeezed her eyes shut tight. What _wanting_ the Guardian was able to formulate was urgent and instinctive and the Light that came to her hand was nothing that she had felt before. She drew it from that darkness behind her eyes, so like the spaces between stars.

With all her focus, the Guardian put her body behind the shape she felt in her fist. As it flew, light churned through the orb like undulating dusk and when it struck the captain’s shield it split and crackled like violet fireworks across their back.

It was weak, but enough. The shield fizzled and failed, and that, at last, drew the captain’s attention. With a snarl they halted and turned. The snarl transformed into a chuckle that tore out into a full laugh.

In another second they had teleported to the rooftop beside her.

The Guardian sprang to her feet, leveling her rifle. The captain knocked it aside and the gun went spinning off the roof. She pulled Irina’s pistol, only to have one of the captain’s hands clamp tightly around it and wrench her arm wide. The Guardian staggered, drawing a knife. The captain incapacitated that arm, too, drawing her close enough to laugh in her face. The only thing she could see past the metal spikes and ridges of their helm was four glowing, hungry eyes. 

Then the captain spoke, but not in their own tongue—they wanted her to hear them.

“Fledgling dead thing,” they growled, “thought to face House of Dusk.” They howled and spit out sharp words in their own tongue. 

Ghost crept from her pack to whisper. “They are cursing you. _Kleviks_ , they call you—thief. _Diris_ _—_ dead thing. Terrible insults by Fallen standards.”

The captain’s eyes flashed as they noticed the Ghost. “Fool dead thing. I will crush you. I will crush your little thief. Dead thing will die, all will burn! All will bow before Dusk!”

Little thief? They meant Ghost. “Run!” the Guardian gasped, ears full of gunfire and shouting, nose and lungs stinging with the smoke of fires and shattered shanks, eyes full of the captain towering over her. Two arms drew her own wide to expose her torso and a third drew an enormous electrified blade.

The Ghost’s fading whirring was a small comfort as they took her advice and fled.

Then the blade burst through her ribcage. Bone cracked and fragmented into her lungs. Cold spread through her chest as her blood abandoned her. The world went slow and syrupy. She choked as the captain withdrew the blade. All the strength had gone out of her legs and she crumpled when they released her. The captain’s shield flickered back to life and they stalked off, the woman at their feet already an afterthought.

The last thing the Guardian saw as the life left her was a fresh wave of Fallen descending through the skylight.

Despair and darkness closed cold over her and her last breath left her body.


	5. Voidwalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diris reawakens from death void-touched and strong enough to push back the Fallen invaders. After making a new ally, it is time at last to set off for the Last City.

The void was black and calm. With no senses to feel it there could be no cold, no twinkle of starlight, no tugging solar currents, no flow of time. Only the peace of nothing.

And yet, there was not _nothing_. Slipping past latticeworks of infinitely thin life- and death-worlds, she was not alone here. A tense balance held together worlds greater than imagining across the void. All within fought for survival, but on different terms. All against all, or all for all. The impulse to take what is needed, or the impulse to build together. They were all threads laid against each other, constellations tense and twisting across the void, peace found only in their balance. A tapestry but also a blade’s edge.

The infinite darkness was full and delicate, but the more she looked, the more she noticed the edges curled up, like burning paper, the hunger impulse too strong and looming. 

A shield could protect, at first. But a spear might cut the impulse away, tear the tapestry threads and let them lie still again.

The life-worlds tugged on her and the void faded away, but she brought the blade edge with her.

* * *

She sucked in a gulp of air before opening her eyes. The air felt new into her lungs but stung slightly, tasting of soot and burnt oil. The memory of the previous moments rushed back and the Guardian gasped harder.

Faint mechanical whirring and thoughtful beeps and chirps prompted her to open her eyes. Ghost hovered a few feet overhead. Their metal plates clicked and shifted, spinning as they concentrated on her. Their eye flashed and they sighed with relief. “It worked! Welcome back, Guardian.”

“I am alive.”

“Yes, did you think I could only revive you once?”

She groaned. Her body was in perfect health, as far as she could tell, but a phantom of the wound ached in her chest.

A figure loomed over them booth and the Guardian flinched away at first from the Fallen captain who crouched beside her. Then she realized that, despite the face plate that made facial recognition impossible, he was different. He wore red instead of purple, and he was shorter, of slightly less powerful built than the captain who had killed her.

“Greetings, Lightbearer.” They held out a hand to pull her to her feet, then handed over her rifle. “No time for proper greeting,” he said, and then swung off the rooftop into the fray.

“They came after all!” Ghost sighed. “I’m so glad you thought to ask the peaceful Fallen for help. Just as you…um, went under, fifteen of them dropped in to help us. Look!”

Though they appeared no better fed than the invaders, the new arrivals were easy to discern, flying many different colors. They had taken up defensive positions alongside the humans—to the surprise and mild unease of the latter. A servitor, a large, orb-shaped machine, channeled ether streams to empower a group of dreg who guarded the town hall. The dreg hammered any invaders who tried to climb the hill with slow-firing rifles and the servitor rained down bolts of purple energy that splashed and seared where they landed. 

Friendly vandals had taken up perches the humans could not reach and they expertly picked enemies out of the fray. Only two, it appeared, were marauders, barely visible as they flashed in and out of the enemy back line. Their captain commanded the vanguard, reinforcing the human front lines at the main gate where they had begun to give way.

They were surviving, but still the defending forces were not many. Despite their losses, the invading Fallen pushed the attack. More still sought to cut their way into the cavern, and the enemy captain, twice as tall as most of the troops they moved through, still swept between the buildings in search of easy targets.

The Guardian knelt, preparing a grenade, when she saw the friendly captain break off from their own forces to engage their counterpart. His movements were sure and quick, but as the captains circled each other it was clear how much larger the invader was, how much greater their reach. The captains’ shields flashed and crackled against each other, and then snapped.

The Guardian dove for them, letting the Light catch her on the way down. The captains’ blades were locked, their enormous rifles perilously close to each others’ faces. One of the friendly captain’s arms gave way unpleasantly and they broke off with a snarl. The invader roared triumphantly, spitting what must be threats or insults as they advanced.

She could feel it in her body. The fabric edge of the voice had come back with her, sharp and potent, and the Guardian took hold of it.

With a burst of speed, she sprayed the charging Fallen with another volley of curling, sparking void. Unprotected by their shields this time, the grenade singed them, biting blackened and melting gaps into their armor. The captain roared again, this time in pain.

“ _Diris_ ,” they hissed, “Dieh sha dor ka er sloat sha!”

Ghost squeaked and disappeared once more into the Guardian’s pack. “Dead thing,” they translated, “I should have stolen your Ghost.”

The captain teleported and charged her. Fear filled the Guardian’s mouth but she bit down and held steady. With a shard of void drawn into her palm, she lashed out. 

The attack was inexperienced and clumsy, but purple light flickered over the captain’s body. They whirled away, howling.

Turning on their injured ally, the Guardian pushed them away. “Go! Quickly!” The friendly captain dipped his head in acknowledgment and took the opening she had created, disappearing around a corner.

Now the Guardian and the invading captain circled each other. The invader shouted something into their comms—potentially summoning reinforcements. Then they leveled their rifle at her. As the captain fired, the Guardian launched herself into the air, drawing fire from more vulnerable targets. The leap brought her to the rooftops and she took off for more open and less crowded terrain. The captain kept pace, shouting threats.

“They say they will burn your remains and display my shattered shell on the ketch,” Ghost said from her pack.

“Thank you for the update.”

“Please don’t let them shatter my shell.”

“I have no intention of letting that happen.”

At the edge of the park, the Guardian drifted across the pond, captain hot on her heels. They phased in and out after her, skipping across the shallow water. The Guardian trained her rifle on them, but the bullets plinked weakly off their shields with a ripple of sparks.

The captain appeared suddenly to her left and caught her with a volley of charged fragments. The Guardian staggered and gasped as they opened wounds across her side.

“The Light can heal you, Guardian!” Ghost cried from her pack.

The captain closed in to deliver a killing blow, but she warded them off again with a wall of scattering void sparks. 

Threads of the void came ever more easily to her hands and her grasp grew surer. It pooled around her, dripping and swirling into the ankle-deep water. With every second her breaths came easier again. 

But what invaders could make it past the defensive lines had come to their leader’s aid. Over a dozen chattering dreg swarmed toward her, firing powerful charged sidearms and their own versions of the captain’s shrapnel launcher.

The captain pressed her again, a blade each in all four hands. The Guardian wheeled under one blade as another clanged off the knife in her fist. A third left a notch in her rifle. She was giving ground. Another palmful of void was enough to brute force her way through the shield again, but the dreg fire drover her back, behind the cover of rocks on the shore.

Picking off one or two of the smaller Fallen bought the Guardian little time. The captain had recovered once more and phased terrifyingly close. Only a grenade of void shards pushed them back.

But on the knife-edge of looming death, the void had not abandoned her. Instead, it was a deep well, a swelling river flowing ever faster.

It filled her veins harder than adrenaline. Breathing was superfluous, the power in her body suspending her perfectly between life and death. She could do this—be the blade to keep these people safe.

The force of the void lifted her over the cover of rocks. For a moment, every eye, all the enemy fire, was trained on her. The captain made to charge again, but they all seemed to suddenly see something in the Guardian that made them freeze in terror. Perhaps it was their own deaths, swirling in the orb the Guardian gathered in one hand. The captain turned to flee.

She hurled it after them. The void orb moved like a black hole, sluggish and sucking at the air, but trained to its target. The captain’s shield collapsed and the void consumed them. Their body dissipated into purple sparks that sought out their allies. Even these little bolts were enough to discorporeate its victims, and those who escaped ran face-first into the rifles and blades of other defenders.

The Guardian dropped against the rocks that had provided cover. She was spent, the rush of energy had sucked away her own strength as it passed and she was now aware of how many dreg shots had landed as she wound up for the kill. But she had done it.

Ghost tumbled their giddy way out of her pack. “That was brilliant! With no guidance from me whatsoever. Oh, you’re warlock material for certain.” The Guardian hacked up blood. “Oh, right!” They passed a beam of Light over her body, like a ripple of sun off water, and the Guardian’s energy returned. Her breaths came easily again.

“Thank you.” A leap brought the Guardian back to the roofs, Ghost in tow. The invading Fallen were in full retreat. The defenders killed any enemies in sight, but the friendly Fallen seemed to be taking dreg captives. 

The fighting had sufficiently settled down that Efe had begun to summon people to the town hall. The injured limped or were carried up the hill. Tentatively, flanked by a few vandals and dregs, the friendly Fallen captain followed. The Guardian dropped to the ground to catch up.

Efe and Nera met Guardian and captain at the door. “You’re alright!” Nera gasped with relief as the woman jogged up to them.

“Yes.” The Guardian nodded at her. “So are you.”

“No Fallen even got close.” Her eyes flickered nervously to the captain, who dipped his head. 

“Do not fear new attacks. Invaders wanted plunder for themselves. Captain wanted glory. We have jammed their communications upon arrival and left…failsafes.” An explosion, much bigger than the one from the Guardian’s traps, sprinkled them all with stone dust. “That was one of them now.”

Gracefully, Efe offered the captain a bow. “You must be Kivraks. I am glad our Guardian thought to call you. _Thank you_ , truly, for your help. I do not know if we would still be standing without it.”

“Lightbearer gave us a chance to show sincerity.” His eyes fixed upon the Guardian. “What is your name, Lightbearer?”

Efe and Nera kindly did not offer the dead woman’s name, but gave the Guardian a chance to supply her own. But then—what had the invading captain called her? Dead thing. “I am Diris,” she said.

Ghost spun to look at her and Kivraks cocked his head. “This is…Eliksni insult?”

Eliksni…of course Fallen had a word for themselves. “Yes,” Diris admitted, “But it is accurate.” 

The captain’s face was impossible to read beneath their helmet, but they extended one of their right hands. “I offer human peacemaking gesture.” 

Diris blinked for a moment, then took it. Somehow, the gesture felt as foreign to her as it must to Kivraks. Their skin was tough, more like hide, but not unpleasant.

“Well met, Diris Lightbearer.”

“Well met, Captain Kivraks. I must thank you for providing Ghost cover so they could revive me. We owe you our lives.”

“But you also defended me, Lightbearer. The debt is already repaid, yes?”

Diris considered this. “No debt is owed between allies. Contact me if you have need.”

Kivraks bowed and she returned the gesture. Then the Guardian turned to Efe and Nera. “I should confront Arwa. Do you know where she is?”

“I believe she stormed off home,” Efe said. “Perhaps you can convince her to turn herself in.”

“I will do what I can.”

Nera reached briefly for Diris’s hand but retracted the gesture. “Do you…want any company?”

“No, thank you. This is better done by me alone, I think.”

“Okay. Diris.” Nera’s smile was a frail flicker and then she ducked into the town hall.

Diris and Ghost turned the other way and set off down the hill. At the door of Arwa’s house, Ghost did not need to be asked to remain behind.

Arwa was waiting in the kitchen. Neither woman said anything as Diris crossed the kitchen to Irina’s bedroom. Diris began to unload Irina’s pack, replacing supplies and weapons. She hoped Irina would have forgiven her for not leaving her clothes behind. After considerable hesitation, Diris also selected one of the portraits of Nera, rolled it up, and pocketed it.

Arwa finally looked up as Diris left Irina’s bedroom, slowly closing the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” Irina’s mother asked.

“Returning Irina’s things.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“Ghost and I are leaving on the next trade ship. I’ll sleep in the town hall until then.”

Arwa’s gasp came with tears in her throat. “Do you hate me?”

Diris thought about this. “No, I don’t. I can see the tragedy that made you who you are and made you do what you did. But I also cannot comprehend sacrificing other people’s lives for your goal.”

Arwa slammed a fist onto the table so hard the cupboards rattled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

By way of an answer, Diris held out an open hand. “I would like the Fallen transmitter and translator, please.”

Arwa leapt up, knocking her chair over. In a moment, however, the rage dimmed and she slumped over, leaning on the table for support. “You were only pretending to sleep last night.”

“That’s correct.”

“And you went to Efe and told them about the attack.”

“That is also correct.”

“So they already know.”

“They have not told others. Yet.”

Arwa righted her chair and collapsed into it. She fished around in her pockets and drew out the two comms devices and threw them on the table. Diris took them.

“I did it to save them,” Arwa said, almost pleading.

“Save who?”

“Everyone that I could. The Fallen will never stop killing. With this peace treaty we would be inviting them into our lives, giving them easy access—”

“So you invite them to attack us while we sleep?”

Arwa swallowed audibly. “I just wanted to show how treacherous they are.”

Heat rose in Diris’s face. “And what would you have done if the _entire ketch_ of Fallen had arrived?”

Arwa’s breath caught and she didn’t answer.

Diris took a long breath. “Fortunately, that did not happen. But you are responsible for the deaths of at least fifteen people, and a number of wounded. Who knows how many will not survive the night. With evidence, Efe can put you on trial. You might consider admitting to it yourself.”

“Why, so I can get an easier sentence? Your father is dead, you’re abandoning me. What does any of it matter?”

Diris frowned. “I was thinking it might be at least some way to start to make amends. To repair the damage you have done.” She turned to leave.

“Wait! Irina, please don’t go.”

The Guardian paused at the door. “Truly, whatever you have done, I _am_ sorry for your loss. Irina passed away two days ago.”

Arwa’s weeping followed her out the door.

* * *

“I’ve thought of a name for myself,” Ghost said as they stood under the morning sun. Stonehaven’s burial grounds looked east from the crest of the hill that sheltered the settlement, and Guardian and Ghost stood some ways off, watching the funeral rites from a distance. 

“What did you decide?” Diris watched the huddle of townspeople around the new graves—fifteen for the ambush victims, including an empty grave for Irina, and a further sixteen from the attack of the night before. It could have been so much worse, but it did not have to be like this at all.

“Idisi were spirits in the far northern regions of ancient Europe. They were clan guardians and defenders of both the living and dead. They were typically feminine, it is true, but it seems appropriate. And I thought it paralleled your name rather well.”

“Diris and Idisi.” She nodded “A nice pair.”

“I’m rather pleased with it.” Idisi ruffled their plates, almost preening.

The hum of an engine rose from behind the cliff and Diris watched Kivraks and his crew disappear over the trees. The Fallen had remained behind for the evening, helping to clear up the worst of the damage and tending to their own wounded. They had promised to return in a few days to resume peace talks, but for the present Efe had urged them to go. A trade ship would arrive in a few hours and it would be better not to startle them.

Across the hill, Nera broke off from the rest of her community, rubbing her face dry on her sleeves. “You know you could have joined us,” she said as she approached.

“It seemed better to stay here.”

Nera sighed. “We will always consider you one of us. Especially after all this.”

“Has Arwa…” Diris trailed off.

“Yes.” Nera’s throat went tight. “She came to my Zazi first thing. She will declare herself and her co-conspirators later today.”

They let out a long breath together. 

“I am glad she will do so of her own accord,” Idisi said. 

“It makes a lot of things easier,” Nera said, “especially rooting out anyone else who might try to call down a Fallen ambush.”

The three watched the mourners in silence together for a while. Diris could smell the forest again—only peat, moss, and pine, unmarred by blood or engine oil. She wondered what the City would smell like. 

“Are you sure you wish to leave?” Nera asked.

“Yes.”

“You could stay and make a life here. We could get to know each other properly.”

Diris shook her head. “I am sorry, but I must go.”

“Why?”

“I must train. I must understand why I am here. I must—”

“You must see the whole, wide universe out there.” The lopsided smile was shaky, but genuine. “You know, Irina wanted that, too. We were going to explore it together, someday.” Nera focused again on the knot of townsfolk, now beginning to dissipate. “Don’t forget about us, though.”

“Oh!” Diris reached for the paper in her pocket. “On that note, may I request something of you?”

Nera blinked at her. Her eyes widened as they full upon her own portrait.

“I was hoping I might keep this with me. As a memento of both Irina and you.”

Nera’s eyes were overbright but she beamed as she nodded. “Of course.”

They stayed on the hillside to enjoy the sunshine. 

Around noon, they watched the expected cargo ship streak out of the upper atmosphere and descend toward the cliff side.

Idisi trilled and bounced. “Oh, I cannot _wait_ to show you the Last City! Ikora is going to be so delighted.”

All the way back down the hill and across the cavern, the Ghost circled the two women, dancing and humming to themself. All the way, the two women were silent.

Nera drew up short at the rear tunnel. “I will leave you here,” she said, voice thick. “You should write sometimes.”

Diris nodded and stepped away into the tunnel. “I will.” She left it there.

She squinted as she stepped again into sunshine. How did the spirit work? Did Irina stay, still, in this body? Or could she remain behind with the people she loved? Diris hoped that Irina could rest in peace here. Diris had work to do.

“Come on, come on!” Idisi bounced ahead of her. “I made arrangements ahead of time. They’re expecting us, but they won’t wait long.”

The pilot was cheerful, but also, by their own admission, surprised to see a Guardian so far out in the wilds, and so young at that. They seemed heartened, however. “We stop in settlements all over Earth and Stonehaven is pretty far out here,” ” they explained. “It’ll take us a few jumps, but we’ll get you to the City in one piece!”

Diris and Idisi made space for themselves in the crowded cargo hold as the ship lurched skyward. There were no weapons to watch the ground falling away from them, but Diris could feel the pull of the ship carrying them away. 

Her Ghost scanned her face. “How do you feel now?” they asked. “I know that I want to go to the Tower, but do you?”

Diris nodded.

“Why?” There was no judgement in the question—Idisi deeply and plainly wanted to understand the Guardian.

Diris looked down at the smooth lines of her palms. She pointed to one of them—it curved from between her thumb and forefinger to the heel of her hand. “This means ‘destiny,’ doesn’t it?”

The Ghost shrugged in its own way. “By some human beliefs, yes.”

“It feels like a thread pulling on me. I have a life ahead of me and it feels right to—it feels _necessary_ to spend it this way. I have work to do, but I also want to understand this…pull.” She paused. “I still feel like I owe it to Irina to spend well the life that should have been hers.”

Ghost nodded. “I think I understand what you mean. I spent centuries feeling a need to find you.” Their plates clicked. “I would like to understand it, as well. As much as we can.”

Diris smiled. 

But she did not say what else tugged at her, a need she did not quite comprehend, yet—the tangle of void threads, twisting endlessly with the pull of distant hunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the extremely brief line in Eliksni, I am grateful to Sarsion for their incredible Eliksni linguistic breakdown from House of Wolves voice lines: https://errata.ishtar-collective.net/the-fallen-language/  
> I am also indebted to r/DestinyLore poster meionnaise for their own version: https://www.reddit.com/r/DestinyLore/comments/4lskua/eliksnifallen_language_translation/
> 
> If you liked this, you can now read The Light Between Stars, Part II: The Edge of the Blade!


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